


Two weeks too long.

by 4theloveoftea



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M, RP, RP based, RP characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-19
Updated: 2013-01-19
Packaged: 2017-11-26 03:17:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/645962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4theloveoftea/pseuds/4theloveoftea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur has been away for 2 weeks on a university field trip. They have catching up to do when he returns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two weeks too long.

**Author's Note:**

> A little ficlet (unbeta'd) for my friend over on tumblr, sherlockianbound.
> 
> Written just for fun.

He's out of the lecture theatre first. Before the professor has chance to wish them well till next time, even.

He gets shouldered in his haste, before a quick double take and apologies are thrown his way, blitzing down the corridor as he does. 

Sweat gathers at his brow in anticipation and he shields his front with his jacket, casually held in hand. Head low, he knows exactly where he's going without looking. 

He's outside door 206 before he knows it. He's home and he's there at last and he's so fucking hard he could cry and his keys aren't anywhere in his bag.  
A calming breath. In, out. In, out. He leans his forehead against the door and that does not help at all. He hears Merlin's whimpers through the wood. Remembers they're in his pocket and it takes two tries to get them free from tight denim. He curses as his hand shakes, finally opening the lock and the door falls forward and slams just as quickly shut.

Desperate. His bag and coat thrown to god knows where. Shirt, gone. Jeans, somewhere behind the couch. His left in his heather grey shorts - the tight ones Merlin can't resist him in, though he doubts neither of them will show resistance tonight. 

He may be in a rush but he wants to savour this one moment. The moment he walks to their bedroom door and sees Merlin. Merlin, unaware and lost in the middle of his hot desire haze. He sees him, covered by sheets only up to the dimples on his back. His head turned to the side opposite, hips slowly grinding down into the mattress as moans, almost unvoiced and forced from within. 

Arthur can tell Merlin's holding back, saving himself. There's desperation there but Merlin knows the promise he made. He has not touched himself but he has prepared, if the tube on the side is anything to go by. The bed squeaks low, to the rhythm Merlin is setting and Arthur can't keep it in. He growls and Merlin answers unknowingly, keening a growl as he stops and rears up on his elbows from the bed, head looking behind to lock his gaze with Arthur. 

The sheet slips. Arthur is across the room before it falls. 

He's climbing up the bed, over Merlin. They both shiver when Arthur lowers himself down. Merlin can't help but to grind back down. Arthur answers with a hand on the back of Merlin's neck and a hoarse 'No.' Another noise - one of need - escapes Merlin before he's being not so forcibly rolled over to face The blond.

Arthur leaves the warmth to stand by the edge of the bed. He leans heavily onto the side, one knee resting on the edge. He stands there and looks. He can. This before him is his, theirs. He sees Merlin's hair in disarray, the previously artfully styled hair from the photo is mussed and stuck to one side of his face. A red stamp of deoxidised skin on his cheek where he silenced his moans in the pillow. His collarbone sheens with anticipation. The white of belly that leads to hipbones made for gripping. And lower. Lower where Merlin needs his touch, needs the connection to each other that means forever and more. Needs it like Arthur does. A need grown not out of these past few months but the inexplicable need of centuries past and memories that longer just below the surface. They know each other in this primitive, carnal way and they have known it for lives lived over and over but the connection has not hit them yet. The dots have not connected. They will. It will just take time.

His thighs quiver with restraint as he leans forward and takes. He grabs Merlin by the calves, sliding up slowly, feeling the sinew and muscle taut and ready beneath his fingers as he reaches knees. He slips his hands to grip behind and drags Merlin closer, down the bed until he's there, right where he wants him. Merlin's legs automatically seek out purchase round Arthur's waist as he drags him closer, leaning down so they touch hip to hip. 

A look into amber brown eyes, and they close slowly in a blink of a yes, and Arthur needs telling no further. Words aren't spoken, there's no need and no way they can. It's been two weeks and the feel of skin finally on skin is overwhelming and new all over.

He flicks a hand under the waistband of his briefs and they fall to the top of his thighs. He's hot and everything feels so heavy and he's waited too long as he surges forwards and all at once everything is right. Merlin is screaming in air as he enters, and its good that Merlin took his advice seriously. He would never hurt Merlin but he don't think he could have waited, either. He sets a pace but he can't get the angle and its not enough. He cradles the back of Merlin's head as he bodily moves them both up the bed, staying inside, needing the connection. Once settled, he moves his hand to the crown of black hair, protecting and steadying. His other arm rests over Merlin to lever himself above. 

Merlin practically weeps at the pace he sets. It's unrelenting, fast and fierce. He grunts each time, fully inside and he's the closest he'll ever be with a person, right now, physically and emotionally and he knows this will only be so with Merlin. Without Merlin he doesn't think life will be worth living. He's not whole without him. He's a shadow of a man and he doesn't know how he managed up until that day Gwen and Morgana had a joke and posted ad cards in sainsbury's.

He won't last long, neither of them will. Merlin has already replaced his legs around Arthur's hips, heels digging in his back for purchase. Arthur takes one second. One second to adjust the angle, and Merlin has Arthur on his back, surprise flashing in his eyes. 

Arthur had slipped out in the haste, but Merlins there, straddling Arthur's thighs tight as he lowers himself down. 

Arthur can do nothing but stare in wonder at Merlin, nails bruising but not quite breaking the skin that covers tight over Merlin's hips. He helps him pull down that little bit deeper, helps him move that little bit faster and his wrists are strained so tight the muscles on his forearm jump out against bone. Sweat's dripping off both of them as Merlin leans down to capture Arthur in a kiss. It's consuming and humid and heat and burning as lips open and tongues collide. Uncoordinated and together and possessing. 

Merlin's movements are getting more and more erratic and Arthur finds himself less able to move as his lover takes over the pace. He tenses once, twice and Arthur needs to feel him as he comes. In one swift movement, Arthur is stats upright, Merlin upright as they cling to one another. Merlin tenses once more, their closeness binding as Merlin comes. His head thrown back as Arthur moves in once more to suck on the juncture of neck and shoulder. Claiming. Marking. It's seconds after and Arthur follows, a guttural, wanting growl pressed into skin. 

They stay like that, Merlin in Arthur's lap, arms round one another a story come down from the high. Breathing deep, breathing for the first time, perhaps. Arthur rests his head down on Merlin's shoulder, inhaling the sweat and cedar, pine and salt. Merlin answers with a smile kissed into Arthur's temple. 

They're together again. It's only been two weeks. Not long, by some standards. But for Arthur and Merlin it's been a lifetime. They've found each other, finally. They're home.


End file.
